


Growing Pains

by kinkology



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fat Keith, Insecurity, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkology/pseuds/kinkology
Summary: After Shiro passes away in a car wreck, Keith turns to food to cope. He begins to despise himself, but Lance wants nothing more than for Keith to be happy.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for self-depreciation and excessive fetishism.
> 
> I never thought I'd post this on the actual world wide web, but I've been encouraged by other weight gain fics on AO3. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy.

From where he sat flipping through a magazine on the couch, Lance watched Keith come down the stairs into the kitchen, adjusting his earbuds and scrolling through his phone. Keith opened the refrigerator, hiked up his large sweatpants, and took out the chocolate cake sealed in its large plastic container. He took out a knife and fork but didn’t bother with a plate. When Keith brought the whole cake over to the table and sat down, Lance discretely watch the way his his sizable belly plumed forwards into his lap, his thighs over the sides of the seat. Keith cut himself a large piece and dug in, eyes still glued to his phone. 

It must have been a bad day, Lance thought. Except Lance didn’t know if Keith was feeling bad about his brother or his weight. 

***

It had taken a while for Lance to get Keith to open up and confess him how hard it had become for him to improve his eating habits. He told Lance that he wished he had another vise—one that didn’t have such “repulsive” physical side effects. But ever since the car crash, Keith had been grief-stricken and food had helped him cope in the short term. 

Keith’s brother died in the wreck, and Keith sustained injuries, too. A very long stint of rehab had gotten him back on his feet, literally, but proper exercise had been out of the cards for some time. Now, months later, Keith was able to function normally on a physical level; he _could_ exercise lightly if he chose—but Keith never chose, despite Lance’s encouragement. He couldn’t, Keith would say, it was too hard to find the motivation. And if he started, he became too exhausted too quickly to find the will to keep going.

In the weeks just after Shiro’s death, after Keith gained thirty pounds and a diagnosis of major depression, Keith would tell him that he was alone. That Lance was just friends with him out of pity. That food was going to ruin his life. Lance always told him that none of these things were true. But he hadn’t quite expected Keith to change quite as much as he did.

A year of grieving, shutting Lance out, and refusing to do any work away from home had transformed Keith, in a way, Lance had to admit. Emotionally, but physically, too. Keith stopped calling Lance to come over, but Lance did anyway. Every time he visited, the circumference of Keith’s waist was a little larger and his hips protruded a little more. Eventually much more than a little. Keith’s clothes began to stretch over his growing body—his heavier belly, his thicker love handles, his chubbier chest…

It became impossible for Lance to overlook the way Keith’s hands puffed up enough for his knuckles to be dimples. The way his arms filled up his short sleeves to the brims, leaving no material loose. How his face became full and round, with fat generously lining his jaw and storing in abundance under his chin. Even the floor sounded different when Keith walked, creaking a bit under the new pressure. When Keith’s old clothes could simply no longer contain him, he bought new clothes. But those didn’t accommodate his habits for long. Keith’s round and padded arms rested farther and farther from his body center, and his movements became less quick—perhaps Keith’s attempt to prevent his excess from jiggling, although if that was his intention, he wasn’t always successful. 

He became more self-conscious than ever, but regardless of how uncomfortable he looked in public, of how embarrassed he was when it was just the two of them, he kept gorging on food. Desserts. Double and triple portions. 

Lance had been Keith’s best friend for years, and there had always been something between them that wasn’t just friendship. But Lance wasn’t sure Keith wanted anything more. He wasn’t sure himself if something more was a good idea. So they stayed really close friends.

…but after the umpteenth time Lance left Keith’s place with a boner—from watching Keith unbutton his too-tight pants when he thought Lance wasn’t looking, from seeing the relieved flush on his flabby face after taking the first bite of an especially caloric meal, from just _looking_ at his ass, which had gotten so, _so_ gloriously fat—Lance knew they both couldn’t go on like this. 

Keith was too hard on himself. And Lance was just too fucking hard all the time. 

***

Keith didn’t notice his issue at first because he was so caught up in grief. But a few weeks after the accident, he got out of bed, went to get dressed, and realized there wasn’t a single pair of pants or jeans that could comfortably fit up his thighs…which had gotten very…plump? Not one of them could button around his hips…which were swollen and soft. He stepped on his scale and his eyes grew wide. Already, he could feel dread creeping up on him. But this wasn’t permanent, was it? The real problem was that he still couldn’t do any substantial exercise, and just walking for long periods of time still caused pain. Keith pulled up his shirt some and looked at his belly button. It was definitely deeper. He pressed on his waist and felt sick as soft skin bulged between his fingers. 

The best option would have been to eat less until he was fully healed and could work out again. But he just…didn’t. Instead, late night snacks became routine. He stuffed whatever was in the pantry into his mouth; he binged on the desserts in the freezer. He steadfastly ignored, when he reached for another handful of chips, how his forearms had grown pudgy and his hands a little thick. Television hindered him from realizing just how much food he consumed in the evenings. When he sat down to eat at regular times, often with Lance, he had to undo the zipper as well as the button now to relieve enough pressure. He ate while he worked on his computer; he ate while he read in the afternoon. He defaulted to sweatpants and, by wearing those, wasn’t aware of how fast he was filling out—really filling _out._

Just three months after his first realization with his pants, Keith was larger than he’d ever been in his life. In the mirror, where he used to see bone and muscle, dips and edges, he now saw nothing but soft curves. The strings he used to have to tie tightly to _keep_ the pants up dug into him completely undone. Keith looked at how his hips puffed over the top of the pants; a depressingly obvious muffin top had formed. 

Keith changed clothes and changed clothes but he just looked so _fat_ in everything he owned. 

It wasn’t just his middle that had grown overlarge. His arms were rounder and squishy. His legs stretched out the pant seams; any hint of a thigh gap was gone. His calves were chunky and his ankles were thicker.

As was his neck, it seemed. Unless he made an effort to conceal it, a second chin peeked out naturally. Keith turned in the mirror and let out an anxious, shaky exhale. His ass had more than doubled (tripled?) in size, protruding out from his back by many more inches than it had before and overfilling his sweatpants—Keith could raise his shirt and see a considerable portion of his ass crack, completely and embarrassingly horizontal thanks to the sweatpants’ effort to stay up on his hips. He could imagine Lance making a joke that he could set a glass of water there and it wouldn’t spill. 

When he started having a similar issue with all his pants and jeans, even new ones that were supposed to be his size, Keith became increasingly self-conscious of his backside in particular, constantly feeling its disproportionate size in the extreme tightness of the seat any given pair of pants. He knew Lance glanced at it a lot, and that made Keith feel worse. He was already mortified from getting so fat—why did he have to have this extra shame in the form of feeling awkwardly close to the car wheel and far from the seat back because his ass had become veritably massive? 

Keith decided to diet. He lost three pounds, but then gained ten. His BMI tipped decidedly into obesity. He gained another ten pound nonetheless. One morning at breakfast, the button of his pants popped off at the exact same time the butt seam tore completely apart. Only two of his largest shirts could be tugged and stretched enough to cover his whole belly—then he gained another five pounds and made that number zero. His second chin sagged lower and plumper, and became a permanent fixture on his face. He got in bed at night and the bead creaked under him.

But he kept eating. He kept getting heavier and heavier and heavier. 

Months turned into a year. 

***

At the table, Keith finished up the cake. He readjusted the top of his pants lower, causing his gut to push further into his lap. His thighs extended over the sides of the chair by several inches now. He tried to ignore this just as much as he ignored Lance, who still insisted on coming over uninvited.

He cleaned up after himself and disappeared upstairs once more. He could feel Lance’s eyes on him the whole way. Lance had been kind to him again and again, but Keith still couldn’t…believe that their relationship wasn’t doomed to crumble into Lance pitying him and both of them feeling embarrassed. Because Keith didn’t see a revelation of eating habits on the horizon; he couldn’t deny that he’d let himself go—and that was the understatement of the year.

He felt his own body. It was so huge, so soft. Proof of his massive overindulgence, his utter lack of exercise. Keith had stopped thinking that things ‘couldn’t get worse.’ These days, he seemed to feel fatter by the hour. 

***

After that second, more shocking look in the mirror, Keith realized he needed to get new clothes—he couldn’t wait any longer. But he dreaded the very idea of going out the way he looked. When he did, he was surprised (and unsurprised in hindsight) to see that no one spared him a second glance. How were they to know he had gained so much weight in so little time? Why should they care? But Keith couldn’t help but feel self conscious anyway. He balked at the sizes of pants and shirts he was forced to buy so he wouldn’t suffocate. And even in the largest pant sizes his belly still spilled over the button some. His middle visibly pressed through the shirts he tried on; a size bigger would simply be a tent on him, and anything smaller would have revealed too much his growing rolls.

To Keith’s dismay, even a traumatizing shopping experience didn’t deter his relentless urge to eat more. At this point, gorging was an act he treated with forbidden desire. The fact that being overweight was a taboo to a majority of society made the act of overeating strangely exciting.

***

Lance started dreaming things he really shouldn’t have. 

He stood in Keith’s kitchen, where the lights were dim. It was night and Keith sat at the table, eating too much, like Lance knew he often did. But this time, while stuffing himself with the rich, attractive desserts in front of him, Keith groped at his own huge, chubby sides. He’d gained more weight, Lance noticed. Lance’s hands itched to know whether those sides were as easy to clutch as they looked, but he couldn’t move closer. So instead he watched intently as Keith ate cupcakes, each one with great relish, and felt over the expanse of his big belly through his thin nightshirt. _He’s so fat,_ Lance thought as he ached with arousal. Then Keith took a stack of four cookies and took as big a bite as he could into all of them at once, filling his mouth completely and causing his second chin to push out farther than his first. Lance touched himself. 

The more Keith ate, the more Keith grew right before Lance’s eyes. Before long, Keith’s middle pushed at the table in front of him and the button on his pants popped clean off. The chair creaked loudly as his bottom swelled with more weight. But before Lance could lose himself at the sight, Keith got up and lugged himself over to the couch in the next room. Lance followed him and felt his arousal intensify at how Keith’s impossibly thick thighs pressed together when he walked and how they plumped out wider on the cushions as he sat down. Keith picked up the bowl of extremely buttery popcorn on the coffee table—his shirt riding up as he leaned forward, revealing a wide back and the top of his butt, which bulged out of his pants—and didn’t seem to notice that as he ate, another fleshly roll of fat slowly introduced itself on his chest, forcing his belly to fully overlap his sweatpants. 

Lance did lose himself then, climaxing at the idea of Keith getting even _bigger_ than he already was _._

***

Even though Keith refused to believe he would ever need to buy bigger clothing again, he continued to gain weight. His arms got even heavier, his thighs got even larger, and his love handles protruded out more than Keith imagined a man’s should have. His second chin became a constant, no matter which way Keith turned his head.

The sugary nature of the junk food he ate made his whole body more flabby than firm, too—his arms and legs, of course, but his face too. His jaw had grown very soft and his cheeks had slackened with the extra thickness. Keith wasn’t sure if there was a hard edge left on him. 

His bottom continued to grow huge, too, and Keith’s fingers sunk deep when he pressed them into the cheeks. Were he to lift them even a little, they would drop with a jiggle. More of Keith jiggled now just walking around his house than he cared to admit. He desperately hoped Lance didn’t notice. 

He ate and he gained. His joints and knuckles dimpled. His guilt grew with his waistline. His scale groaned along with the bed he climbed into at night, and Keith was sure he would be alone in it for the rest of his life.

***

Eating that cake felt good until Keith shut his bedroom door behind him. Immediately, he once again was faced with his mirror. He didn’t know why he hadn’t smashed it to pieces yet. He saw that his clothes, even his socks, had grown too tight again. He took one step forward and watched how his gut jiggled slightly. He hiked up his sweatpants, but his shirt rode up in turn, revealing too much sagging, plush belly. He pulled his shirt down harshly. 

Then there was a knock on his door. Keith made no move to open it. “Lance, not right now,” Keith winced at his own depressed tone. “I just…don’t feel like talking right now, alright? Why don’t you come back later?” _Or never_ , Keith thought. He suddenly felt miserable.

Lance came in anyway and closed the door behind him. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said without preamble. 

Keith nearly rolled his eyes. “Wha—what do you think?” He was angrier than he should have been. “What’s _not_ wrong?” 

He glanced over at the mirror for a moment and Lance cornered him. Keith wanted to pull down a screen between them, one that disguised himself as the man he was before his brother’s tragedy. 

“I don’t see anything wrong. What is it?” Lance crossed his arms over his chest. Keith narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why Lance was being deliberately obstinate. 

“If you really want to know, the scale says I gained another three pounds since last Monday. That’s three pounds closer to being hospitalized for being so freaking obese. Can’t you leave me alone just this once?” 

Lance _did_ roll his eyes. “Please. Yes, you should eat healthier, but you’re not about to be hospitalized over three pounds.” Keith opened his mouth to protest, but Lance spoke right over him, “Sometimes I think you care more about that scale than anything else. Including me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Keith said. “And—”

“Well you certainly care more about what it has to say.” Lance’s voice was cold.

Keith swallowed. He didn’t know where this was going, and he didn’t like not knowing. “It can’t lie to me.” 

“What?” Lance said in disbelief. “You think I _lie_ to you? I never lie to you, ever. When I say food hasn’t ruined you, I mean it. When I say you look fine to me, I mean it. When I say you’re not alone, I always mean it. You just never listen.” 

There was something in Lance’s eyes that Keith almost didn’t recognize: hurt. Keith backtracked. “I do! I’m not saying that you’re a liar, Lance. I didn’t meant that. But it’s just,” he sighed, “so hard to believe that you could…”

“Could _what_?” 

“Really…not care.” Keith didn’t do a very subtle job at glancing down at himself. 

He looked up to see Lance shaking his head. “Jesus, Keith, are you so blind? I care about _you,_ not what you look like, not what a godforsaken piece of plastic in your bathroom says. You know, that scale you care about so much? Well _I_ care about _you_ more than anything.” His eyes bored into Keith’s, pleading for understanding.

“What?” Keith said slowly.

“Do I have to spell it out?” Lance seethed. Then he stopped himself and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with his hands. When he looked Keith in the eye again, they were calmer. “I love you, Keith. Did you really not know? I’ve been _in_ love with you almost since we met. I’m still in love with you and no matter what you do, there’s no way I could fall _out_ of love with you, even if I wanted to.” Lance went still when he finished, and his expression was carefully schooled, as if awaiting a verdict.

Keith stared at him in shock. For a few moments, his mind was blank. He mumbled, “I thought…I didn’t think…”

Lance glared at him, but Keith saw a sparkle of something in his eye. “What _did_ you think when you saw me trying to hide hard-ons in your own home? With no one else around? I know you’re observant enough to have noticed at least once.”

Keith flushed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“Jump to—” Lance put a hand on his forehead in exasperation. “What conclusion could jump to besides me wanting to _jump you?_ God! I know you’re not a virgin, so why is this so hard for you to understand? You’ve always been attractive to me. I’ll admit that before, I was never really sure if getting involved was the best idea, because being friends with you was more important to me than anything. But then…well, you changed, and you kind of became twice as attractive and it became harder for me to keep my…resolution of friendship.” From his face and his tone of voice, Keith realize Lance was _serious_. “But you also started hating yourself. _Hurting_ yourself.”

He moved closer, putting his hands on Keith’s shoulders. His eyes were pleading again. “So you eat a lot now, who cares? I don’t. But you’ve done more than that; you’ve tortured yourself with food, too. I didn’t know what to do to help other than to support you like I always have. But now—now, Keith, I refuse to let you deal yourself any more shit with the scale, the mirror, your clothes, everything. I’m not going to sit by and watch you hurt yourself. Hate yourself. I love you too much to see you in pain that you don’t have to feel, don’t _deserve_ to feel. Please stop pushing me away.”

Several tense, silent, anticipatory moments passed. Then Keith nodded. “Alright,” he whispered. 

The word was hardly out of his mouth before Lance kissed him. It felt exactly like Keith always imagined, and he realized then that it would have felt the same no matter what either of them looked like. 

Keith kissed back, for once doing his best to shove aside the screaming thoughts to run away, hide, and never come out until he was presentably thin. He was still hesitant to touch until Lance did enough for both of them and Keith had to keep up. 

Lance’s tongue was in his mouth one moment and the next it was at the corner of his pudgy jaw, then along his even pudgier neck. He could feel Lance’s hands suddenly groping everywhere, like they existed solely for the purpose of making Keith feel wanted. They went from his shoulders down to his arms. They squeezed the softness, flesh bulging hugely between every finger. Then they were on his waist, his huge waist where his fat created too many folds on his back and lumps on his front. But the hands didn’t recoil; they dug in, touched, felt up his body like it was a soft, thick blanket. The hands slid around his shirt and down to his butt. There was simply too much down there to grab, so they just pressed hard into the flab, pushing Keith flush against Lance’s body. 

Keith had never felt better in his life.

*** 

Lance didn’t know how he’d lasted so long without Keith against him like this. 

From the first kiss, Lance knew he’d never be able to stray from Keith’s lips for long. He kissed his softened jaw and voluptuous cheeks and his second chin. He loved it, but Lance kept coming back to kiss him full on the lips like he’d wanted to for years. 

When Keith had been thin, Lance wanted to kiss him. When his hips swelled several inches around and his ass became too big for his pants, Lance wanted to kiss him. When Keith became quite officially heavyset, Lance wanted to kiss everything on him. When Lance visited him after several months of absence and found that Keith had gained so much weight that he nearly filled the open door, he wanted to…well, take him right there and then. 

_Finally_ , was all Lance could think. 

But what happened below the neck was a different story. Just pushing his own hard, thin body into Keith’s endlessly padded one was one of the most pleasing sensations Lance had ever felt. There was so much to hold that it was impossible to feel dissatisfied.

Lance pulled the ample bottom towards him harder, but Keith’s middle hung too far forward for him to grind against what he’d daydreamed about. No matter. Lance wondered if Keith would mind him grinding directly onto his belly, which was just as soft as he’d hoped. Keith’s gasp told Lance he didn’t. 

Lance gave into temptation and pushed Keith towards the bed. It didn’t take much coaxing. The deep thump of the mattress was music to his ears and resulting jiggles all over Keith were a feast for his eyes. They both took off their clothes quickly and to Lance’s relief, Keith did so without too long of a hesitation.

He thought he would be peeved that Keith started touching (with only a bit of difficulty reaching) his own erection, but all the other distractions were overpowering. The sight of Keith laying down, for one, was one he’d pictured a thousand times. But his imagination never created an image so alluring than the one before him. Keith’s flabby ass could be seen splayed behind his rotund, meaty thighs. His belly flattened only to spread to the sides, and Lance couldn’t have for wished the fat there to be any doughier. He could clutch at either side and watch the smooth gut move and shake.

 _God_ , Lance thought. Keith had become one of the heaviest people Lance knew, but he was, by a thousand fold, the sexiest. A fat, sexy god. 

And the masses of his love handles were just as good. Stiffer than his malleable belly, but still much softer and bigger than the average person’s. Lance felt up his sides and his fingers snagged on layers of fat like before. He felt them in his hands, opened his eyes to take in the rolls that showed themselves whenever Keith picked up his hips some. Lance did not neglect to rub his hands over Keith’s extra chubby breasts. When he brushed over the nipples, Keith sighed. 

At last, he could take it no more. With a little bit of a forceful push, Lance moved Keith’s belly out of the way enough for him to go down on Keith properly. It was electric, it was heavenly, it was everything Lance dreamed and more. 

They were so high strung, so stimulated, that they didn’t last long. Keith’s dick was larger than Lance had expected and didn’t look in the least shrunken in the midst of so much…expansion. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the pleasured expression on Keith’s flushed, fattened face when he stroked him, or maybe it was that his expression was accompanied by the display of an even more massive second chin than had debuted in his dreams, but his orgasm was more intense than he could ever remember it being before. Keith came not long after.

They panted and fell back onto the bed together. Lance immediately reinitiated contact by throwing his leg over one of Keith’s jiggling thunder thighs and put an arm around Keith’s soft middle. But what felt best was looking at Keith’s face, the one he was so hypnotized by, and finding for the first time in a long time, that Keith looked happy. 


End file.
